


The Cave: An Obitine Story

by GermanChocolate



Category: Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, First Kiss, Fluff, Fluff and Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-17
Updated: 2020-08-17
Packaged: 2021-03-05 23:34:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,275
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25953817
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GermanChocolate/pseuds/GermanChocolate
Summary: While stuck on Concord Dawn, Obi-Wan Kenobi decides to surprise Duchess Satine--but something happens that neither of them expects.(First kiss fic).
Relationships: Obi-Wan Kenobi/Satine Kryze
Comments: 14
Kudos: 64





	The Cave: An Obitine Story

Though she was relatively safe for the first time in weeks, Satine Kryze could not relax. Her mind was spinning with thoughts—thoughts of the war raging around her, thoughts of the killing and bloodshed that destroyed her people with every passing day. She wanted to sue for peace, find a resolution with words, not violence. But she was not so naive as to believe that her people would give up fighting so easily. The warring would continue until one side—or even both—had lost too much to go on.

Satine was afraid to wonder just how much loss would be enough. Her people had already destroyed themselves beyond what most civilized societies would deem acceptable. More than half of the people of Mandalore had been lost in the Clan Wars, most of the cities had been razed and plundered, and even the strongest of the Clans stood on the brink of collapse. Even the planet surface, once home to an array of desert flora and fauna, was now bleak and empty.

It was nothing like that here.

Granted, Concord Dawn was far from flourishing with life; like most planets in the Mandalore sector, it was an arrid, desert planet. But there was something more alive about this place than her homeworld. Still largely untouched, the planet still possessed a wild and natural beauty. From the ruddy plateaus jutting from the orange-red sand to the expanse of unpolluted morning sky stretching overhead, Concord Dawn felt pure, undefiled by sentient tampering.

The beauty of the world did little to ease her racing thoughts.

Satine stalked restless about, her mind unable to quiet despite the early hour. The sunrise was only just starting to break on the horizon, casting the sandy ground in a warm, pinkish light and only barely illuminating her path. She was trying to convince herself that she was out looking for firewood, but she knew that she realistically couldn’t focus on anything external right now. She was lost in her own world, the world where her fears and despair swirled madly about her.

“You’re up early.”

Satine almost started. It wasn’t because the voice was unfamiliar; she knew almost instantly that this was the voice of Qui-Gon Jinn, one of the Jedi sent to protect her during the war. It was because she hadn’t heard him approaching at all. Not a footstep, not a single breath, had alerted her to his presence.

Recovering from her brief startling, she turned to face him. “I could say the same of you, Master Qui-Gon.”

“I’m on early morning watch,” he said as a way of explanation. “I relieved Obi-Wan of his post a few hours ago—though I suspect he might be up by now.” He showed her a gentle smile. “It seems as if he has also been quite restless.”

“I can hardly blame him. Current events do not lend themselves to tranquility.”

“On that count, you have no argument from me, Duchess.” He looked away, gazing up at the soft pink and orange light painting the horizon. “But even so, I will leave you to your wandering, provided one of us can sense you. A quiet mind is something that must be searched for, and I sense that you have much searching to do.”

Satine inclined her head. “Thank you, Master Qui-Gon.” 

Without saying anything else, she was back to walking, though she wasn’t quite certain where she would go. She had no real direction in mind, no end-goal in sight. She just kept moving, her feet carrying her forward like they had a mind of their own.

The land around her was mostly flat—so flat, in fact, that she could see for miles in some directions. The only thing that prevented her from seeing to the horizon in all directions was a plateau, rising from the ground like a sentinel keeping watch over the land. For some reason the sight of that beckoned to her, called to her like the song of a bird calling to its mate, and she found herself heading toward it. Sooner than she realized, she was on the other side of the plateau, bathed in the long shadow it cast across the desert floor.

As she continued walking, she became aware of the sound of her footsteps. It was louder somehow, sounded as if every step broke something beneath her. When she finally did look down, she saw that this was exactly the case: the ground on this side of the plateau was littered with the bones of smaller animals, some of which she had broken underfoot. They were mostly disintegrated, bleached mercilessly by the sun and picked over by whatever scavengers called Concord Dawn home, but it gave Satine an eerie feeling nonetheless. It wasn’t that something dangerous had killed these animals; from the size of them, whatever had made a meal of them couldn’t have been that large. It was the fact that something as large and in plain sight as the plateau could be hiding so much death and decay in its shadow.

“Aren’t you the early riser?”

Startled equally by the sound of the voice and the sight of the bones, Satine whirled around and looked up. About twelve meters above her head, balanced in a one-handed handstand atop the plateau, was Obi-Wan Kenobi. His eyes were closed, but not with strain. To the contrary, his face was free of any trace of effort, as if he were in the middle of a deep sleep. Even his breathing appeared to be soft, smooth, barely noticeable—despite the fact that his position most likely required a great deal of physical strength. 

And then there was also the fact that he was stripped to the waist, which she hadn’t seen before. He also wasn’t wearing shoes, but that observation was mostly lost on her. For what seemed like an eternity she was only aware of the way the morning sun highlighted his form, defining every muscle along his chest and arms.

But that moment, born out of something deep and wild and untouched within Satine, screeched to a halt when she remembered who she was. Or, that is, who she was to _ him _ . He was her protector—not because he was attached to her personally, but because he was committed to helping her cause. It wasn’t that he didn’t care what happened to her, or that he wasn’t friendly with her; over the past few months of being on the run together, the two of them had forged a kind of friendship. But when everything was said and done, he hadn’t chosen to be here, with her, because he enjoyed her company.

Atop the small plateau, Obi-Wan peeked open one eye. “Is everything alright, Duchess?”

Still staring at him, Satine shook her head quickly. “No, no. Everything is fine. I thought a walk might clear my head, that’s all.”

Even from this distance, Satine could see the concern in his expression. “You had trouble sleeping.”

It was a statement, not a question. After months of being practically glued to her side, he knew her well enough by now that he was aware of how the Clan Wars affected her. He knew how they haunted her dreams, knew how they would follow her even into the waking world and consume her thoughts. He was… _ sensitive _ that way.

Finally, she found the ability to look away. “I cannot accept that I am safe while my people are suffering.”

“The person I see suffering right now,” he said quietly, “is you.”

She frowned. “If our positions were reversed and it was your Jedi Order who were dying, I don’t think you would be so cavalier.”

He peered down at her again. “I’m not being cavalier. I’m simply stating the truth of what I see.”

“And what do you see?” There was an edge to her voice, but Obi-Wan wasn’t giving any indication that it bothered him. He’d been around her long enough to know that she was fierce in an argument, fiercer even than him, and he’d since come to accept it. Perhaps even embrace it.

In a movement that he made look deceptively easy, Obi-Wan shifted to balance to his other hand. There was still no sign of strain on his face, in his movement. In his own way, he was graceful, moving with the sinuous ease of a dancer. And, though it felt wrong to admit it, he was pleasant to watch. He had always been easy on the eyes—the first thing she had noted upon meeting him was how handsome he was, with his strong jaw and soft blue eyes—but here, in this moment, he was truly something to behold. 

“What I see,” he said, lowering himself smoothly to his feet, “is that your lack of inner peace will not give peace to your people. To allow yourself to suffer only harms yourself, not your enemies.”

She shook her head. “You don’t understand.”

“I don’t understand your situation, no. But I understand you. You’re a compassionate woman to your core, and to see anyone suffer—especially your own people—cuts you to the core. But to live cut in two is no kind of life.”

“Are you suggesting that I try to forget about my people—about what’s happening to them?”

“Not at all. What I’m trying to say is, simply because your people suffer doesn’t forbid you from experiencing joy. Or, at the very least, from being free from your own thoughts.”

She looked back up at him, back up at his warm face and soft eyes. He was right, of course; she was smart enough to know that her own trepidation and despair weren’t helpful even before she had spoken to him. But there was a part of her, maybe the part of her that was cut in two, that didn’t want to listen. That wanted to go on hurting. To feel pain was better than to feel nothing at all.

For some reason, she had the pressing urge to tell him all of this, to let him know what she was really feeling. And that was...odd. While she did consider him her friend, and while she was certain that the feeling was mutual, it wasn’t the nature of their relationship to share something so personal. So intimate.

“You sound far too much like your Master,” she said instead.

He grinned. “I try my best. I would be a miserable student if I’d spent the last ten years with him and forgotten his teachings.”

Despite herself, despite the thoughts whirling through her mind, Satine smiled. Obi-Wan had a way of disarming her, of making her forget herself. They could be on the run for their lives, bounty hunters hot on their trail, and he could find some way to make her giggle like a schoolgirl.

_ No one can make me feel the way he does. _

Satine blinked. The thought had simply popped into her mind, unbidden. She wasn’t sure why she’d thought it, or why it somehow felt so right even while feeling so wrong, but she did her best to push the thought away. To pretend like it never happened.

Obi-Wan’s grin dissolved into a slight frown. “I wonder…”

“Wonder what?” Satine tried not to let her inner turmoil come in through her voice. Although Obi-Wan had assured her that most Force-users couldn’t read thoughts, she couldn’t shake the feeling that somehow he’d sensed what she had been thinking. Or, at the very least, he had sensed the inexplicably warm and comfortable feeling that had accompanied the thoughts.

He shrugged, all boyish nonchalance. “I suppose you’ll just have to see for yourself.”

“See what for myself?”

“It’s a surprise.”

“May I ask what this surprise is about?”

“Well, I’d hardly think it would be surprising if I told you what it was about.”

Satine suppressed a smile. Outwardly, she wanted him to feel like he’d irked her with his jokes, but inwardly, she found it charming. She found  _ him _ charming, to be more precise, and she didn’t want him knowing she saw him that way. He might get a big head.

“Now, if the lady would be so kind,” he said, giving a tiny bow, “follow me.”

With that, Obi-Wan leapt from his perch atop the plateau, coming to land smoothly behind her. Slightly taken aback, she whirled around to face him. From the look on his face, he’d been trying to shock her, but for what purpose she wasn’t sure. 

“I do hope that wasn’t the surprise,” she said dryly.

“Far from it.” With a flourish, he offered her his hand. “Allow me to escort you to the real surprise.”

Still fighting a smile, Satine took hold of his hand. It was comfortable, familiar after all the times hand taken her hand to lead her out of peril. And yet now, as he led her toward a small opening in the plateau’s side, it also felt strangely new. Almost exhilarating. Perhaps it was the fact that he was stripped to the waist and that she could now, even in the shadow, make out every contour of his torso.

“I would provide us with some kind of light,” Obi-Wan said, stooping as the cave’s ceiling grew closer. “But in a moment, we won’t be needing it.”

For a moment, Satine wondered if that meant they were about to find the cave’s exit, and was a little disappointed that by “ _ surprise _ ” he had meant “ _ here’s a short tunnel through the plateau _ .” But then Obi-Wan reached to touch the wall, and she saw it: Everything, from the roof of the cave to the small pool of water in the center of the chamber, was suddenly alive with soft green light. It seemed unnatural at first, as if Obi-Wan had simply covered the chamber with glow lamps, but upon closer inspection she realized that it was coming from the cave itself. Running her hand along the cave wall, she felt something soft and downy, as if the rock were growing a swath of fur.

“They’re bioluminescent organisms,” Obi-Wan explained, placing his hand on the wall beside hers. “I suspect they’re able to live in here because of the moisture from the pool.” His eyes glinted playfully in the soft light. “I thought it might be a nice place for a swim.”

If he had suggested this a few months earlier, Satine might have thought it wildly inappropriate. After all, he was essentially her personal bodyguard, and Mandalorian nobility typically considered it uncouth for a guard to partake in any personal business with their charge. But now, with the warmth of his hand in hers, her heart thudding wildly in her chest, she felt almost giddy.

“I mean,” he said, perhaps interpreting her silence as hesitation, “it would be nice for us both to have a chance to wash up. It’s been quite some time since we were someplace with water we didn’t have to save for drinking. And it would be a nice way to keep your mind off things—at least for the time being.”

“I think it would be lovely,” she said, finally allowing her smile to break through.

He smiled back. “I’m glad you think so, Duchess.” He made another flourishing movement with his hand. “Ladies first.”

This time, she did hesitate. It wasn’t that he made her uncomfortable, or that she didn’t want to take a swim with him. She knew, from the depths of her wildly beating heart, that she wanted to do this—whatever  _ this _ might entail. No, it was something else, a small voice in the back of her head warning,  _ After this, there’s no going back _ .

Obi-Wan cleared his throat and looked away. “I can leave you here alone if you’d be more comfortable. I only thought…”

“No, no. It’s fine,” she insisted. She hoped desperately that he didn’t hear the trembling in her voice, or see how her hands shook. “But perhaps you can get in first while I get ready. You could...test the water. Make sure it’s not too cold.”

Although the temperature of the water was the furthest thing from her mind, Obi-Wan didn’t seem to question this. He simply nodded and turned his back to her. It was probably out of respect—maybe he thought she wasn’t comfortable with him watching her undress, even if she wouldn’t be entirely naked. To her surprise, this wasn’t actually the case; in fact, there was a part of her, that same wildness that had enjoyed watching Obi-Wan’s handstand on the plateau, that welcomed it. 

It was that voice in the back of her head again:  _ there’s no going back. _

Taking in a deep breath, Satine tried to quiet the voice as she began stripping out of her clothes. There was something oddly freeing about it—as if she was ridding herself of a heavy burden with each article of clothing that fell to the ground. When she was done, standing in nothing but a camisole and a pair of shorts, she felt light as a cloud, like she could soar into the atmosphere and leave all of the rules and dogma of her life behind.

Her skin glowing with the cavern’s soft light, Satine stopped at the pool’s edge, gazing downward. She could see Obi-Wan’s reflection in the glassy surface, his expression placid and unassuming. If he felt anything remotely similar to what she felt in this moment, he gave no indication of it.

“The water’s fine by my estimation,” Obi-Wan said, his back still to her. “Though it might still feel a tad chilly for your taste. Maybe stick a foot in before you go all the way.”

Satine decided she didn’t want to test it out first.

Without stopping to let herself think, to reconsider, she jumped in.

The water was cold, colder than she’d expected it to be, but she didn’t care. She didn’t care that she splashed Obi-Wan, either, or that he seemed to be bemused by what must’ve seemed to him to be uncharacteristic behavior. Although they both knew each other’s more playful side, the image he had of her was that of the sensible, responsible woman, someone not given to impulses or frivolity. While she certainly had feelings, she wasn’t expected to express them—at least not in any meaningful way. Better to keep things private and carry on, head up. That was the Mandalorian way, and it was especially the way of Mandalorian nobility. She was meant to follow that way, no questions asked.

But what if she wanted to stop being a noblewoman for a little while, and just be a woman?

Wiping water out of his eyes, Obi-Wan regarded his quizzically. “Are you alright? Did you slip?”

“No. I simply felt like jumping in.”

He blinked. From the look on his face, he was trying to determine what she meant by that. But he didn’t appear to be having any luck; he still looked bemused, as if he was having trouble accounting for this new side of his friend. “Oh. Well. I hope it wasn’t too cold. I know you’re used to swimming in fresh water .”

“I don’t mind,” she said. She looked directly into his eyes. “In fact, I find it rather exhilarating.”

He blinked again. “I...I suppose you could say that. Master Qui-Gon always said that there’s nothing as energizing as a swim in cold water.”.

“Qui-Gon isn’t here right now.”

“Well, yes. I can see that.” 

“We’re here alone.”

“Unless you’re counting the bioluminescent organisms, then yes. We’re alone.” A hint of wariness entered his tone. “Are you sure you’re alright? You seem… _ different _ , somehow.”

“Is it wrong for me to be different?”

Frowning, he studied her intently. “Not necessarily. But it worries me that you changed so suddenly, especially when you’ve been under so much pressure lately. It’s as if someone turned on a switch and now there’s this...this…” He looked away, like he was searching for the right words. “Now there’s this new Satine, and I’m not sure.”

It was her turn to frown. “You’re not sure about what, precisely?”

There was a hint of hesitation in his voice. “I’m not sure how I feel about a different Satine.”

“And how do you feel about me on a typical day?”

“What do you mean?”

That was what he said aloud, anyway. From the look on his face, though, he knew exactly what she meant. He was just afraid to acknowledge it.

She sighed. “What I am trying to ask is—how do you feel about me, as a person? Are we comrades? Friends?”

“I was under the impression that we were friends.”

“Is that all we are?”

He still wasn’t looking at her. Instead, he was staring at the water, as if he could simply pass through it and be offered some sort of escape. Some way out of this conversation.

“I think I should be going,” he said, as if he was planning to leave—even though he remained completely still. “Qui-Gon’s most likely expecting me.”

“I suspect that’s not true—and I believe you know that as well as I do.”

“Are you calling me a liar?”

“No. But I think that you have difficulty facing the truth.”

He snorted derisively. “Now who sounds like Qui-Gon.”

“You’re dodging my question.”

“And what if I am?” He was leaning back against the side of the pool, arms folded across his chest. Where he’d previously been playful, charming, almost flirtatious, he was now exasperated and—and what else? She tried to study him discreetly, to draw out whatever feeling was hidden behind the anger in his eyes. Was it defensiveness? Fear? Curiosity? She couldn’t tell; though she perhaps knew him better than most, he was still a master of masking his emotions.

She met his gaze, her eyes every bit as fiery as his. “It’s a simple question.”

“That may be so,” he said, a dangerous edge to his voice, “but you seem to think that asking a simple question means you’re entitled to my answer.”

“I never said that I was!”

“Then why do you keep pushing me to answer?”

“Because I’m tired of pretending!”

“Pretending what?”

“Pretending that I don’t have feelings for you!”

If she’d physically slapped him, she didn’t think he would have looked more taken aback.

She couldn’t blame him: she felt just as shocked as he was. 

It wasn’t that she was totally unaware of her feelings. Looking back, she had felt something, some small spark of attraction, from the moment they met. But she had never before put those feelings into words. She hadn’t allowed herself to. To do so would have made it real, and reality had a nasty habit of causing heartbreak and pain.

Which is exactly what she had brought upon herself in this moment.

More than anything, she wished that she could take back her words. No, scratch that—she wished she could take back the past hour. She should have just stayed at the camp, where it was safe and comfortable and familiar, and never ventured out here. That way, she would have been satisfied pretending—pretending not to feel, not to notice the way her heart quickened whenever he was close. Not to ache and long for him to feel the same way.

She also wished he would say something—say anything, really. At least then, she would know what he was thinking. What he was feeling. She wouldn’t be tortured by the agony of staring into his eyes and seeing only the unknown. 

Instead, he offered only silence.

Everything in the outside world was silent. Even when she concentrated, the only thing she could hear was the sound of her own heartbeat, thrumming loudly within her own head. She couldn’t hear the water, or his movement, or even her own breathing. Everything around them, even her own body, was too still to make a sound.

They were both too frightened to move.

It was surreal, the way they both seemed frozen in time. The only indication that Obi-Wan was alive, that he wasn’t just a sculpture hewn from the cave itself, were the subtle movements of his eyes. She could feel the heavy weight of his gaze searching her face for—-well, she wasn’t sure  _ what _ , exactly. Maybe an explanation. A reason for why she’d suddenly turned their worlds upside down. Or maybe he was just thinking of something to say, a way to get out of this crazy and messy world he now found himself in.

She decided she was going to do something before that happened, if only so she knew she had tried everything before letting the moment slip by.

Her father, before he had been killed on the battlefields of Galidraan, had been fond of telling her stories, most of them about her people. And most of them were myths—but that didn’t necessarily mean that they were untrue. In some ways, they were more true than some of the most thorough historical accounts.

One of those stories was the creation myth of the Mandalorian people, the  _ Akaanati'kar'oya _ —”the War of Life and Death.” It was a fluid story, one that had been told in hundreds of ways by hundreds of generations. But the core story remained the same. There was a god, usually by the name of Arasuum, who was sloth-like and lazy. He never wanted to move, to change. If he’d had his way, the world would have remained in a constant state of stagnation, with nothing ever growing or changing.

But in opposition to Arasuum was Kad Ha’rangir, the destroyer god. In some tales, Ha’rangir was male, a brute of a man who enjoyed rattling the complacent Arasuum by destroying his creations, forcing the lazy god to create something new. But in the particular version her father had shared with her, Kad Ha’rangir was female, a woman who was both beautiful and deadly, gentle and yet destructive. Like the male versions of her character, she waged war against Arasuum—not because she enjoyed vexing him, but because she wanted him to change. She loved him, not because of his need for sameness but in spite of it. She wanted him to be better; she wanted to shake him, break him free of his slavish devotion to the orthodox and the mundane, and bring him into a world of chaos and beauty and new life. 

That was what Satine wanted in this moment: To be rid of all the rules and regulations that kept them apart and enter into a better way of existing.

So she reached out—not with the insistence and forwardness she’d displayed earlier, but with the softness and delicateness of a person reaching for a wounded animal. His eyes were on her, still searching her face for answers, but he still didn’t move. Nor did he pull away when her hand touched his face, her fingers tracing along all of the stubble and the grime built up over the past weeks. She didn’t care; she knew she was just as dirty as he was, and that that build-up of dust and sand would never be enough to hide the rugged yet boyish contours of his face, or the tenderness of his eyes.

With her hand still resting against his cheek, she drew closer to him. The movement stirred the water, making tiny ripples along the once-glassy surface. Obi-Wan’s eyes were still on her face, but they seemed slightly less wary than before, and they no longer seemed to be divining her intentions. Instead, what she saw behind the wariness was a mixture of fear and curiosity, as if he was both frightened of what she might do but looking forward to seeing what she might do next.

Slowly, tenderly, she raised herself onto the tips of her toes, draped an arm around the back of his neck, and pulled him in for a kiss.

The kiss was not passionate—at least, not in the way she would traditionally think of a passionate kiss. There was passion behind it, yes, and all of the feelings she had locked away for the past months. But it wasn’t long, or deep, or demanding anything. She simply pressed her lips to his, not expecting to receive anything in return, but was delighted all the same when she felt his lips return the kiss.

When the kiss was over, both their heads pulled back so that they could look into each other’s eyes. Just as the water around them reflected the light of the cavern, his eyes reflected what she wanted from him most: he felt it, too. He felt that same ache, that same longing, that had filled her since the moment they met.

This time, it was him who leaned in for the kiss.

Where before his hands had simply hung at his sides, as if he wasn’t sure what to do, this time he placed his hands on her waist. They were soft but firm, melting into her like his lips melted into her. They were confident, felt like they belonged there, but he was still respectful of her boundaries; he didn’t slip his hands under her camisole or try to find a way below her waist. They made her feel safe, like he was the shore and his arms were the anchor keeping her from drifting off into sea.

When the kiss was over, his hands stayed on her waist, while her hands slid to rest on his chest. His skin was warm, and though he had more than a few scars running along his torso, his skin was surprisingly soft. In a way, that was oddly fitting; the man himself could seem distant at times, but after getting to know him, she realized he had a gentler, more vulnerable side.

Letting out a soft sigh, he rested his forehead against hers. “Satine…”

“I know,” she quietly. She reached up to touch his face again. His eyes, closer now than she’d ever seen them, were looking directly into hers, and for the first time she could see the whole range of emotion in his gaze. There was pleasure and uncertainty, joy and guilt, curiosity and a fear of the unknown—the entire range of emotion that any person could feel. Satine wondered if that was what love was: Awakening in your lover the ability to feel fully, to experience the full spectrum of what it was to be alive.

“You know that I can’t do this,” he said distantly, as if he was talking more to himself than to her.

“And neither can I,” she conceded. “Yet here we are, together.”

“What are we going to do?”

He sounded hesitant, almost uncertain, which was a shift from the Obi-Wan that she’d come to know. Over these past few months, he had always had this confidence, this charisma about him that made it seem as though nothing could phase him. Even when they had been in life or death situations, he was unflappable, able to joke or banter while looking death head-on. To see him now be so tentative was like seeing an entirely different Obi-Wan.

Perhaps this was the side of him that only she could bring to the surface.

“At the moment, I don’t know,” she said, her hand stroking his cheek. “But for now, I believe I know exactly what we should do.”

His eyes were locked to hers, expectant.

“I think,” she said, running a fingers across the dirt-smattered outline of his jaw, “that we should finish cleaning up.”

**Author's Note:**

> This story can also be found on my fanfiction.net account.


End file.
